Lenten Reflection – Cuttings later

Cuttings later

by Theodore Roethke

This urge, this wrestle, resurrection of dry sticks,
Cut stems struggling to put down feet,
What saint strained so much,
Rose on such lopped limbs to a new life?

I can hear underground, that sucking and sobbing,
In my veins, in my bones, I feel it–
The small waters seeping upward,
The tight grains paring at last.

When sprouts break out,
Slippery as fish,
I quail, lean to beginnings, sheath wet.

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